Morning in Overlook
by Sliver of Jessi
Summary: After an endless week of useless missions and deliveries in the wastelands, Maya and Salvador decide to hole up in a certain little inn right outside of Overlook. (This has lemony goodness, not of the Maya and Salvador variety though. MayaxRandomOverlookian)


**A/N: ****So this is a two year old little lemon I came up with after my several month-long obsession with Borderlands 2. I was actually quite proud of it at one point, I guess I still consider it worth posting. I'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts on this little baby, seeing as this was the lemon that popped my lemon cherry. That made no sense. JUST READ IT OKAY GOODBYE. 3  
P.S: If anyone wishes to read more, let me know and I may make this into something longer than a one-shot. c:**

* * *

The stench of boos, wet dog and warm wood attacked Maya's nostrils—the scent of Overlook. She took in the air, letting her body melt into the seat of a booth tucked into the dimmest corner of Zadford's Bar. To outsiders, she was nothing but a mere shadow, but under the dark sunglasses and hood, laid a woman Vault Hunter. At times, Maya wished to rid herself of the title—they all looked to her for answers and salvation. She was used to a quiet life back at the Abbey; a life where she could meld into society. As a little girl, Maya dreamed of becoming something big, but most would look down their noses at her, for she was a _Siren_. She questioned, for a long while, why no one ever attempted to turn her in back at the Abbey. A Siren wasn't meant for a normal life, that's for certain— they held a power that most feared, of course, everyone fears something unexplained—or preternatural.

"Ay, _chica_, drinks." Maya exhaled, rolling her shoulders back and stretching her aching muscles as her partner-in-crime slid her drinks across the table and slumped into the seat. She glanced at her friend, a stout, burly, tanned Mexican man, with a masculine face decorated with a blue-black fohawk and a matching beard, smirking softly as she caught her cup before it slid off the edge. "Thanks." She murmured, sipping at the froth bubbling at the rim of her mug. "You gonna hide forever?" Salvador probed, his guttural voice reverberating into her head, making it throb even more so. She puffed exasperatedly and tugged off her sunglasses and coat, leaving them on the seat and sashayed towards the bar with her ale. Whispers resonated around her, comments about a Vault Hunter surviving an encounter with Handsome Jack. She rolled her eyes, unraveling her long cobalt tresses from the knot fastened on the top of her head. Her lush hair fell to her mid- back in a natural side part, curling around her lithe form. Relaxing onto a bar stool, she dropped her head back and downed the pint within a few moments. "Well, young lass, looks like you've 'ad a long day," Zadford let out a hearty laugh, grabbing the empty mug and replacing it with a full one. "It's on ta' house, drink up." Maya grinned, thanking him with a nod and grabbed her next pint.

Hours later, a very intoxicated Maya stumbled towards Salvador, whom had been talking up _yet another _bimbo. Maya couldn't count how many times he went into the back, but she definitely knew he got more than some. "Salv, lezgit outta here." She called, earning a sharp glare from him before she went plummeting to the ground. Suddenly, she felt a pair of warm hands at her hips, holding her up. "E-easy there, y-y-you're a little drunk." An unfamiliar voice whispered, masculine, but unsure. The hands stood her upright and Maya turned, albeit eyeing the man in front of her luridly. Despite the Overlook attire and unfortunate speech impediment, this man was something to look at. Raven black waves laid against his forehead in an undone Mohawk while a pair of gentle dark eyes stared back at her. His complexion was pale, yet virile and fetching. "Name's D-Damien." He grunted and she could have sworn his cheeks were tinged pink from her unwavering gaze. "Maya." She replied, straightening her loose clothing, a practical excuse to stop gawking at him. Her face was scorching from boos she gulped down and the room was turning, much like her stomach. Before she knew it, his hands were on her again, supporting her as she wilted against his chest. She garbled out an apology, trying to push herself away. " Aye, why don't ye take 'er in ta' back there? Gotta bed op'n, jus' follow me." Zadford gestured for them to follow as he walked towards a metal door next to the counter, unlocking it and holding it open for the two. Damien hoisted her over his shoulder, as if she weighed two pounds and ambled into the room. "Take care o' her, Dam', I'll be back after I close up." With that, Zadford shut the door behind him, off to take care of other regulars.

* * *

Maya looked down at the floor in embarrassment from her place on the bed. She had just met this man and he was already in a bedroom with her, staring at her form from the chair across the room. Of course, before she had time to say anything, one of Zadford's waitresses barged in with a glass of water and a loaf of baked bread.

"M-micky said-d-d to get something i-in you-u other than boos-s-s." she muttered, and then looked to the sheepish man in the chair next to her. "Now I see, you've got-t-t a g-g-uy in h-here? Well, get tha-at alchohol-l out of your-r-r system" The woman grinned at Maya's drunken form on the bed, setting the bread and water on the side table. "Have s-s-s-some fun." She called as she closed the door behind her.

"S-so…" The raven-haired man trailed off, drumming his fingers on his knee.

"Yawanna fuck?"

Damien sputtered, his face turning a delicious shade of red, feigning a cough to hide his embarrassment. "W-w-what?" he cried, looking at her in disbelief. Maya glanced at him heatedly, propping herself up on her elbows. She needed this— something to release her from the ache inside. She wouldn't call it horniness, no; it was something more palpable than that. She needed someone to take control so she wouldn't have to. "Come here." She spoke softly, beckoning him forward with a flick of the head. He did so, sitting himself awkwardly on the end of the bed, finding his legs more interesting than her. Maya pulled herself up to her knees, resting her hand on the back of his neck while she tugged his chin towards her. His eyes were fixated on her lips as she leaned into him and pressed her mouth to his in a sloppy kiss. He went rigid, never returning the kiss, nor pulling away from it. Maya pulled away, eyes engrossed in his unsure visage as she crawled onto his lap, straddling him, long legs tucked under her on either side of his. "You want to, don't you?" She taunted, lips inches from his. Without a second thought, she grasped the bottom of her tank-top and pulled it over her head, exposing her bare breasts.

Damien gulped at the sight of her naked torso, letting out a shaky breath and running his fingers through his locks. "W-we don't-t know each other." He stated, though his hands jerked forward and kneaded her well-endowed chest. Maya smirked at his actions, gyrating her hips against his, his erect member pressing against her clothed core. "You don't care." She purred into his ear, continuing this movement ritualistically, letting out soft gasps of air as his throbbing cock caressed her heated nub. The friction of her pants teased her clit, making her want to cry out for mercy. Damien's hands became impassioned—he let go of his restraint. One hand gripped her wrist, almost painfully, while the other pressed against her lower back and he pushed her down onto her back. He hovered over her, taking in her half-nakedness before he wrenched her pants down with her panties. "Fine." He growled, smashing his lips against hers and pushing his tongue into her mouth. Automatically, his hands were on her, a pair of fingers vigorously pounding into her opening without remorse, making her cry out. His other pinched and tweaked her pink bud, rolling it between his fingers as he kissed down her body. Within seconds, his lips found the moist mound of flesh he had been searching for and he ran the flat of his tongue over it, pressing lightly before he took it into his mouth. Maya's eyes widened as his tongue elicited a desperate moan from her. She looked down at him, bewildered by his actions, though it felt oh-so good. He was making love to her, while all she wanted was to fuck—there was no doubt that she had sex before, but she wasn't used to something so intimate. Part of her wanted him to stop; the other wanted him to continue, to make her feel whole again, to feel something intangible, yet so real—something she hasn't felt since Zero. Before she knew it, her fingers were locked into his hair, her back arched from the ecstasy she felt. Her breaths became ragged, her chest heaved as Damien worked her clit. The scorching coil within her stomach began to unravel as her climax drew near. She wasn't used to this—it wasn't who she was anymore; she wasn't meant to be vulnerable. She didn't stop it; she wouldn't and as her head fell slack to the side, delicious moans and pleas escaping her mouth, she knew this was what she wanted most. Maya writhed under him, as his tongue rubbed her most intimate parts, resulting in ripples of pleasure rolling up and down her body. Her eyes were shut tight as the white heat of her climax washed over her in waves of increasing bliss. Gentle mewls left her parted lips as he rode out her orgasm—then she pushed him away, unable to handle anymore. Damien stared at her form, open and waiting for him to take her. He examined her, her head fallen lax to the right side, soft pants coming from her open mouth, half-lidded eyes looking up at him. Her cheeks and chest were tinged pink and her long blue hair stuck to her face. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life and when he looked at her now, he became ever more aware of his own horniness. With that, he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, one hand unzipping his pants.

Hours later, Maya awoke to the sound of rakks squawking their terribly headache-inducing song and the warm thrumming of a heartbeat against her ear. Her head throbbed with the essence of a hangover and her body ached with the activities of the day before. Ever so slowly, she tilted her head up and granting herself the pleasure of ogling at a very attractive man above her. It was as if his face was carved by the angels, immersed in a sleep only gifted to gods. Soft snores escaped his slack jaw, his eyes shifting under his lids; entranced in the dreams and memories of the night before. Yet, in his slumber, ever so softly, his calloused hand caressed Maya's hip and thigh, as if tracing the tattoo that distinguished her from any other. In this moment, Maya wanted nothing more than to grab her clothes and bolt out the door, screaming and flailing about. However, she remained motionless, holding her breath, as if even the mere thought would disturb him. Within in a few minutes of her ever- dedicated gazing, his dark orbs slowly opened and returned her stare.

"…H-hi." He muttered, a tender smile plastered to his face.

Maya said nothing, working up the courage to sit up and explain to him that this could not, _would _not happen. To tell him that he was an idiot for thinking there could be anything more between them, but she didn't.

"Good morning-g." Damien tried again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pulling her closer as he sat up. They were nude, but there was a comfort between them—there was no fear of what the other may see. Maya felt idiotic as she felt her cheeks flush as the memories of the night before flooded into her mind. He had seen every inch of her, kissed and loved every centimeter of her bareness, even her most intimate crevices. With every fiber of her being willing her to leave, she simply nestled into his lap and nuzzled her face into his neck. "Morning…"


End file.
